Ranger' Apprentice The Burning Bridge NEW CHAPTERS
by RedRose-Arrow
Summary: While Will is sent to Celtica with Gilan and Horace, Halt is asked to guide Alyss on her new mission. DISCLAIMER: THESE CHAPTERS ARE WRITTEN BY JOHN FLANAGAN AND I TAKE NO RIGHT FOR THEM. THEY WERE PUBLISHED IN A LATER EDITION OF THE BURNING BRIDGE, BUT NO ONE KNEW. FULL CREDIT TO JOHN A. FLANAGAN AND RANDOM HOUSE BOOKS AUS.
1. Chapter 1

Baron Arald shoved the heavy parchment scroll to one side and looked up at Lady Pauline in exasperation.

"Pauline, do you understand what this idiot is getting at?" he asked. The head of Castle Redmont's Diplomatic Corps nodded.

"In principle, I do, my lord," she said. Arald made a frustrated gesture.

"Then in principle, please explain it to me," he said, adding in an undertone, "as if I don't have enough on my plate planning for war without this sort of nonsense."

Lady Pauline suppressed a smile. Arald had a well-known dislike of legal documents with their where-ifs, where-to-fore's and not-with-standing's.

"Sir Montaque of Cobram Keep is obliged to supply a draft of four knights and thirty men-at-arms when called upon," she began.

"And I take it he is refusing to do so?" said the Baron wearily.

"Not exactly, sir," she replied. "He is willing to supply the men. He is unwilling to place them, or himself, under your command."

Arald frowned. There was no trace of his customary good humour evident at that statement.

"But he is under my command," he said. "Cobram Keep is within the boundaries of Redmont Fief and I am his lord. And commander."

Pauline nodded in agreement. "Correct, my lord. But he does have a case. A very tenuous one, I must say, but a case nonetheless."

Arald's face, already flushed with annoyance, became a little redder. "How can he have a case?" he demanded. "His castle is within my boundaries. I am the Lord of Redmont Fief. He is my tenant. I am his commander. End of the story. Ipso facto. Case-o, closed-o."

"As he sees it, my Lord, the whole thing hinges on a treaty signed by his great-great-grand uncle and the present King's great-great-grandfather, when Cobram Keep became part of the Kingdom of Araluen – and the Fief of Redmont. At that time, Cobram Keep was allowed to retain a certain level of independence."

"That's ridiculous! You can't run a kingdom like that! What was Duncan's great-great-whatever-he-was thinking?"

"It was a gesture only, my lord. They said independence would apply only to certain matters of civil administration – the right to perform and register marriages, for example – not military matters."

"Well then!" Arald exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "If that's the case, where is the problem?"

"The intent is obvious, my lord, in context. But this treaty was drawn up by lawyers, so there is a certain ambiguity in the wording."

"Ambiguity is always certain when lawyers are involved," Arald said. His face brightened. He rather liked that piece of wordplay. It struck him as quite droll. He looked hopefully for a smile from Lady Pauline, but in vain. Deciding she must have missed it, he began again.

"You see, you said 'a certain ambiguity' and I said, 'Ambiguity is always certain when'-"

"Yes, yes, my lord. Quite so," Pauline said, cutting him off. Arald looked disappointed. She continued: "Nigel and I have gone through the treaty, and the letter, and Nigel has drafted a reply. He has found seventeen points of law where Montague has grossly misrepresented the intent of the treaty. In short, he has destroyed Montague's case most comprehensively."

"He is good at that," Arald said, smiling once again. This time, Pauline smiled with him.

"None better, my lord," she said.

"So what's our next move?" the Baron asked. Pauline proffered the letter she had mentioned, but he waved it away. If Nigel and Pauline were happy with it, he knew it would be watertight. Pauline nodded. She appreciated the trust he had placed in her.

"Very well, my lord. We'll do a final draft and I thought I might have one of my students deliver it."  
She replaced the draft letter in a thin, leather folder, and withdraws another document, laying it on the table in front of her and smoothing it out so that it lay flat.

"Now, my lord, there is another matter we must discuss..."

She saw the pained expression on the Baron's face. She knew he didn't want to discuss it.

"You're talking about this brouhaha with Halt, I suppose? I really don't have the time," he said, making dismissive gestures at her.

"Nonetheless, my lord, it is a brouhaha that we must make time for." She tapped the document with one forefinger. "This is a summary of the brouhaha in question, my lord."

Arald glanced up at her. She seemed to be quite fond of that word, he thought. Or she was gently making fun of his choice of it in the first place. But Lady Pauline's face gave nothing away. She continued: "If you care to look through it?"

He reached for it reluctantly. Pauline had known that he would try to avoid the subject. It was distasteful for all of them, but unfortunately, it had to be resolved. At that moment, there was a heavy-handed knock at the door to the Baron's office and, grateful for any interruption, he hastily called, "Come in!"

She frowned at the distraction. It was Sir Rodney, head of the Redmont Battleschool. He threw the door open and entered with a little more than his usual energy. He was talking before he had even crossed the threshold.

"My lord, you're simple going to have to do something about Halt!" he said. Then, noticing Lady Pauline, he made a small gesture of apology. "Oh, sorry, Pauline, didn't see you there."

Lady Pauline inclined her head in acknowledgement of the apology. The department heads at Redmont were all good friends. There was no petty jealousy between them; none of the manoeuvring for influence and favour that plagued some fiefs.

The Baron sighed deeply. "What has he done now?" he asked.

"Do I sense another brouhaha in the making?" Lady Pauline said innocently and he glanced suspiciously at her. She seemed not to notice.

"Well, one of my fourth-year apprentices was stupid enough to make a remark about Will and Horace being sent of on a soft assignment. Said that's all they were good for."

"Oh, dear," said Lady Pauline. "I do hope he didn't make this remark in Halt's hearing?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Rodney. "He's not a bad lad. All muscle and bone, mind you, and a good deal of that between his ears. But he was feeling his oats a little and told Halt to mind his own business." He paused, then added, by way of explanation, "Everyone is a little jumpy, what with all the preparations for war."

"So how is the lad?" Arald asked. Rodney shrugged.

"The infirmary says there's no lasting damage. He'll be back on duty in a few days' time. But the point is, I can't have Halt going around damaging my apprentices. I'm going to need them soon."

Arald toyed with one of the quill pens on his desk. "He's definitely been difficult these past few days," he said. "It's like having a bear with a sore head around the castle. In fact, I think I might prefer a bear with a sore head. It would be less disruptive."

"We were about to discuss Halt's behaviour as you arrived," Lady Pauline said, taking the opportunity to return the conversation to the case in hand. "There had been a complaint about him from Sir Digby of Barga."  
"Digby?" Rodney said, a frown touching his face. "Didn't he try to short change us on his draft of men?"

"Exactly," said the Baron. "We're having a lot of that going on at the moment. So I sent Halt to straighten matters out. Thought it might be a good idea to give him something to keep him busy."

"So what's Digby got to complain about?" Rodney asked. It was obvious from his tome that he felt no sympathy for the recalcitrant commander of Barga Hold.

The Baron gestured for Lady Pauline to explain.

"Apparently," she said, "Halt threw him into the moat."

"Into his own moat, you say?" said Sir Rodney.

He paused to think about the fact. Lady Pauline noticed that he didn't seem overly shocked by Halt's action. If anything, there was a look of grim satisfaction on his face. The Baron frowned at Rodney's tacit approval.

"I know the man deserved it," he said, "But we can't have people going around throwing knights into the moat. It's not... diplomatic."  
Lady Pauline raised one elegant eyebrow. "Indeed not, sir," she said.

"And Halt has been altogether too high-handed about it all," he continued. "I'm going to have to speak to him about it. Most severely."

"Someone certainly should," Pauline agreed, and Rodney grunted a reluctant assent.

"He definitely needs taking in hand."

"You wanted to see me, my lord?" said a familiar voice, and they all turned guiltily towards the door, which Rodney had left open when he barged in.

Halt stood there, clad in his grey-and-green mottled cloak, his face half hidden in the shadows of the deep cowl. It was uncanny, the Baron thought, how the man could appear almost without a sound. Now Arald, like his two department heads, was conscious that he had been caught talking about Halt behind his back.

He flushed in embarrassment, while Sir Rodney cleared his throat noisily. Only Lady Pauline appeared unconcerned – and she had a lifetime of practicing at appearing unconcerned.

"Aaahhhh...yes...Halt. Of course. Come in, won't you? Shut the door behind you, there's a good fellow." As he said these last words, Baron Arald shot a baleful glance at Sir Rodney, who shrugged guiltily.

Halt nodded greetings to Lady Pauline and Sir Rodney, and then moved to stand before the Baron's massive desk.

There was a long and increasingly awkward silence as the Ranger stood waiting. Arald cleared his throat several times, not sure where to begin. Inevitably, it was Lady Pauline who broke the impasse.

"I imagine you're wondering why the Baron asked to see you, Halt," she said, relieving the tension in the room and forcing Halt to say something – anything – at the same time.

The Ranger, taciturn as ever, glanced at Pauline, then the Baron, and replied in as few words as possible. "Yes, my lord."

But it was a start and now Baron Arald had been given a chance to gather his thoughts and overcome his embarrassment. He brandished the letter in Halt's general direction.

"This..." He managed in time not to say 'brouhaha' again. The word was being grossly overused, he thought. "This... business with Sir Digby, Halt. It's just no good. No good at all!"

"I agree, my lord," Halt said, and the Baron sat back in his chair, a little surprised and quite a bit relieved.

"You do?" he said.

"Yes, my lord. The man is a nincompoop and a fool. Even worse, he took me for a fool as well. I suppose I can understand that he might want to keep some of his men for the planting season. But to try to hide them in the forest from a Ranger? Why, that was a downright insult. The man needed to be taught a lesson."

"But was it your place to teach him, Halt?" The Baron asked. Now Halt raised one eyebrow in reply.

"I don't recall seeing anyone else prepared to do so, my lord."  
"Perhaps Halt acted in haste – in the heat of the moment?" Lady Pauline interjected, trying to give Halt a graceful way out of the situation.

But the Ranger simply looked at her, then back to the Baron, and said: "No. It was pretty well thought through. And I didn't rush at all. I took my time."  
Lady Pauline shrugged. The Baron's expression showed is exasperation. He would be willing to give Halt some leeway in this matter if the Ranger should only allow it. But Halt was obviously determined to be pigheaded.

"Then there are no mitigating circumstances, Halt," he said firmly. "You have acted excessively. I have no choice but to reprimand you."

Halt considered the matter before replying. "An awkward situation, my lord, since I am not technically answerable to you. I answer to the Ranger Command and, ultimately, to the King."

The Baron opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. Halt was right. As the Ranger attached to Redmont Fief, he was required to cooperate with the Baron, but he was independent of the Baron's authority. That fact and Halt's intentionally unhelpful manner were beginning to get under the Baron's skin. Once again, it was Lady Pauline who suggested a compromise.

"Perhaps you could inform Halt, in an official manner, that you are displeased with his actions," she said. The Baron considered the suggestion. It had merit, he thought. But the wording could be a little stronger.

"'Displeased' is too mild a word, Pauline. I would rather use the word 'vexed'".

"I would be most discomforted to know you were vexed, my lord," Halt said, with just the slightest trace of mockery in his tone. The Baron turned a piercing glare on him. Don't take this too far, it warned him.

"Then we shall make it 'extremely vexed', Lady Pauline," he said meaningfully. "I leave it to you to put it in the right form." He looked from her to Halt. "You will receive the official notification of my displeasure tomorrow, Halt."

"I tremble in anticipation, my lord," said Halt, and the Baron's eyebrows drew together angrily.

"I think that will be all, Halt," he said, very obviously restraining his temper. Lady Pauline shook her head slightly at Halt's sardonic tone. He was walking a very fine line, she thought. The Ranger now bowed slightly to Baron Arald, turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

The Baron let his breath out in an angry sigh.

"The man is impossible!" he said. "In all the time I've known him, I have never seen him like this. He's touchy, bad-tempered, and sarcastic! What on earth is the matter with him?"

Sir Rodney shook his head. Like the Baron, he had known Halt for many years, and counted him as a friend.

"Something is obviously bothering him," he said. "But what?"  
"Perhaps he's lonely," Lade Pauline said thoughtfully, and both men look at her in amazement.

"Lonely? Halt?" said Sir Rodney incredulously. "Halt's never been lonely in his life! He lives alone. He likes it that way!"

"He did," said Lady Pauline, "But thing have been different for the past year or so, haven't they?"  
"You mean... Will?" the Baron asked, and she nodded.

"Think about it. Halt has only ever had two apprentices. There was Gilan, five or six years ago. And now Will. And he's a rather special young man."  
The Baron nodded, not sure she was right but willing to listen. "He's that, all right."

Lady Pauline was warming to her theme now. "He's amusing and interesting and talkative and cheerful. I should imagine he's brightened Halt's life quite considerably."

"Not only that," Rodney put in, "But he saved Halt's life as well."

"Exactly," said Lady Pauline. "There's a very special bond that's developed between those two. Halt has become as much a surrogate father as a mentor to Will. And now he's sent him away. I think he's missing him. He'd never admit it, but I think he's been enjoying having a young person around."

She paused to see what the Baron thought. He was nodding agreement.

"You could be right, Lady Pauline," he said. "You could be right." He considered the matter for some seconds, then said thoughtfully: "You know, it might be a good idea if you were to have a talk with him."  
"I, my lord?" said Lady Pauline. "Why would I have more influence over him than anyone else?"


	2. Chapter 2

The girl was smiling at him again. Halt sensed it. It was as if he could actually _feel_ the smile radiating at him. He knew if he were to glance sideways at her, where she was riding just a few paces away from him, he would see it once more.

But he couldn't help himself. He looked and there it was. Wide, friendly and infectious. In spite of himself, it made him want to smile back in return and that would never do. Halt hadn't spent years cultivating a grim, unapproachable manner just to have it dispelled by this girl and her smile.

He glared at her instead. Alyss's smile widened.

"Why, Halt," she said cheerfully, "what a grim face that is to ride alongside."

They had left Castle Redmont the previous day for the short ride to Cobram Castle. He had agreed readily when Lady Pauline had asked him to escort Alyss on her first assignment – in point of fact, he would have agreed to most things suggested by the head of the Diplomatic Corps. Of course, as a Diplomatic Courier, Alyss rated an official guard of two mounted men-at-arms, and they rode a few yards to the rear. But Pauline had suggested that Alyss might need advice or counsel in dealing with Sir Montague. Halt had agreed to provide it if necessary.

What Lady Pauline hadn't mentioned was Alyss's innate friendliness and the fact that she was so eminently likable. And cheerful, he though, and that reminded him of someone else. He had been missing Will's lively presence over the past week or so, he admitted. After years of living by himself, attending to the secret and sometimes frightening business of the kingdom, he had enjoyed the light and laughter that Will brought to his life. Now Will was far away, on his way to the Celtic court, and Halt himself had sent him there. He realized that he boy's absence left a void in his life. Reluctantly, he told himself that he must be growing old – and sentimental.

Now there was this girl, barely sixteen but already poised and aware of herself, chiding him gently for his black mood and grim countenance and fixing him with that damned smile.

"And such a silent face as well," she mused to herself. He realized that he had been ill-mannered and she didn't deserve that.

"My apologies, Lady Alyss," he said curtly. Traveling on official business, Alyss was entitled to be addressed as "Lady Alyss". She frowned at his formality.

"Oh, come now, Halt. Is that any way for friends to speak to each other?"

He glanced at her now. The smile was still lurking there at the corners of her mouth. The frown was an artifice. She was gently teasing him, he realized, and he determined that he would not give her the satisfaction of rising to her bait.

"Are we friends, Lady Alyss?" he said, and she inclined her head thoughtfully. The action reminded him of Lady Pauline and he realized how much this girl was like her mentor. He remembered Pauline when she was much younger. It could have been her riding beside him, he thought.

"I would hope so, Halt. After all, I am a friend of Will's and I'm apprenticed to one of your oldest friends, I believe. Doesn't this give us some kind of... special relationship?"

"I am your escort, Lady," he replied and his tone left no doubt that the conversation should end there.

With most people, that would have been the result. Halt could be quite a forbidding figure when he chose. And many people clung to the belief that Rangers dabbled in black magic, and so, were people who should not be annoyed. Obviously, however, this girl wasn't one of those people.

"As you say, you're my escort. And I'm very grateful that you are. But that's not to say that we can't be friends as well. After all, it's quite daunting to be on my first assignment." She paused, and then said quietly, "I'm not altogether sure that I'm up to it, as a matter of fact."  
"Of course you are!" Halt said immediately. "Pauline knows her business. If you weren't 'up to it', as you put it, she would never have entrusted the mission to you. She thinks very highly of you, you know," he added.

"She's an amazing woman," Alyss said, and the admiration in her voice was obvious. "I've looked up to her for years, you know. She's succeeded so well in what is generally regarded as a man's world."

Halt nodded agreement. "Amazing is a good word for her. She's courageous, honest and enormously intelligent. Smarter than most men too. Baron Arald saw those qualities in her years ago. She was the one who convinced him that women are more suited to the diplomatic role than men."

"I've heard people say that. Why does he think that way?"  
Halt shrugged. "He feels women are more inclined to talk things through, whereas men tend to resort to physical methods more quickly."  
"So, for example, Lady Pauline would never resort to throwing someone into a moat if they were being objectionable?" she said, and Halt glanced up at her sharply. Her face was totally deadpan. Pauline had trained her well, he though.

"No," he agreed. "But I didn't say that she's always right. Some people deserve to be thrown into moats."

He realized now that he had been chattering on with her for some minutes, in spite of his determination to maintain his usual grim, tight-lipped manner. She had drawn him out like an angler luring a fish to the hook, he realized, and he wasn't sure how she had done it. And now she was smiling at him again. He harrumphed noisily and turned away to scan the woods on either side.

This far to the west, there was little danger to be expected. And his horse Abelard would alert him if there were any enemies or wild beasts lurking in the bushes nearby. But scanning the terrain gave him an opportunity to break off the conversation.

Alyss watched him curiously. She had seen him around Redmont for years, of course. But when Lady Pauline had introduced them the day before, she had been surprised to realize that he was at least a head shorter than she was. A lot of men were, though. She was an exceptionally tall girl and she carried herself erect. But Halt had an amazing reputation – a seven-foot-tall reputation, she mused. He was famous throughout the kingdom and one tended to think of him as a larger-than-life character. Seen close-up, he was surprisingly small in stature. Like Will, she though, and that set her to wondering.

"What qualities does a Ranger need, Halt?" she asked.

He glanced back at her. Once bitten, twice shy, he thought. She wasn't going to draw him out into an extended conversation again.

"A propensity for silence is a good one," he said, and she smiled, genuinely amused at something.

"Somehow I can't see Will managing that," she said. She and Will had grown up together as orphans in the Castle Ward. He was probably her oldest friend. In spite of himself, Halt's lips twitched in what was almost a smile.

"No. He does tend to chatter, doesn't he?" he agreed. Then, realizing that she might think he was criticizing the boy, he continued quickly: "But that's part of being a Ranger as well. He's always asking questions. He's always curious, always ready to learn more. A good Ranger needs that. Eventually, he'll learn to curb his tongue a little."  
"Not entirely, I hope," said Alyss. "I can't imagine Will becoming grim and forbidding and taciturn, like" – she hesitated and amended what she was about to say – "some people."

Halt raised one eyebrow at her. "Some people?" he repeated, and she shrugged.

"Nobody particular in mind," she said. Then, changing tack, she said, "He's very brace, isn't he? I mean, you must be proud of what he's done."

Halt nodded. "He has true courage," he said. "He can feel fear, he can be afraid. But it doesn't stop him from doing what he has to do. Mindless courage isn't any sort of real courage at all."  
"You've trained him well," Alyss said, but Halt shook his head.

"The training is important. But the qualities have to be there from the beginning. You can't teach courage and honesty. There's a basic openness and lack of malice in Will."

"You know," she said confidentially, "when I was a child, I always said I was going to marry him."  
Inwardly, he smiled at her words. _When I was a child_. She was barely more than a child now, he though. Then he changed his mind. She was a Courier. A Diplomatic apprentice. She wore bronze laurel branch and that meant she was very much more than a child.

"You could do a lot worse," he said finally, and she glanced across at him.

"Really?" she said. "Do you think diplomats and Rangers make a good match, Halt?" Her tone was just too innocent, too casual. He knew exactly what she was getting at and this time he wasn't going to be drawn. He was not going to be drawn. He was not going to discuss any relationship that might or might not have existed between himself and the beautiful Lady Pauline.

He met her gaze very evenly for some moments, then said, "I think we might stop here for lunch. This is as good a place as any."

"Alyss's mouth twitched with a smile again. But this times it was a slightly rueful one.

"You can't blame a girl for trying," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Sir Montague kept Alyss waiting for over an hour before deigning to receive her.

Halt and Alyss waited in the anteroom to Montague's office. Halt stood to one side, leaning impassively on his longbow. Montague was an oaf, he though. As a Courier on official business Alyss should have been greeted without delay. Obviously aware of her youth, the Master of Cobram Keep was attempting to assert his own importance by treating her as an everyday messenger.

He watched the girl approvingly as she sat, straight-backed and erect, in one of the hard chairs in the anteroom. She appeared calm and unflustered in spite of the insult she was being offered. She had changed from her riding clothes when they were a few kilometres from the castle and she was now dressed in the simple but elegant white gown of a Courier. The bronze laurel branch pin, the symbol of her authority, fastened a short blue cape at her right shoulder.

For his part, Halt had left his distinctive mottled Ranger's cloak folded on the pommel of Abelard's saddle. His longbow and quiver, however, he retained. He never went anywhere without them.

Alyss glanced up at him and he nodded, almost imperceptibly, to her. _Don't let him make you angry_. She returned the nod, acknowledging the message. Her hands, which were clenched into fists on her knees, slowly relaxed as she took several deep breaths.

This girl is very good, Halt thought.

Montague's secretary had obviously been well briefed by his master. After peremptorily waving Alyss to a chair and leaving Halt to stand, he had busied himself with paperwork and resolutely ignored them – rising several times to take items in to the inner office. Finally, at the sound of a small bell tinkling from beyond the door, he looked up and gestured toward the office.

"You can go in now," he said disinterestedly. Alyss frowned slightly. Protocol dictated that a Courier should be properly announced, but the man obviously had no intention of doing so. She rose gracefully and moved toward to door, Halt following. That got the secretary's attention.

"You can wait here, forester," he said rudely. Without the cloak, there was little to distinguish Halt from a yeoman. He was dressed in simple brown leggings, soft leather boots and a green surcoat. The double knife scabbard had apparently escaped the secretary's notice. Or perhaps he didn't realize its significance.

"He's with me," Alyss said. The unmistakable tone of authority in her voice stopped the man cold. He hesitated, then rose from behind the desk and moved toward Halt.

"Very well. But you'd better leave that bow with me," he said, without quite the certainty that he had displayed earlier. He held on his hand for the bow, then met Halt's eyes. He saw something very dangerous there and he actually flinched.

"All right, all right. Keep it if you must," he muttered. He backed away, more than a little flustered, retreating behind the secure buck of his desk. Halt opened the door for Alyss, then followed her as she entered the office.

Montague of Cobram was seated at a large oaken table that served as a desk. He was studying a letter and didn't look up from it as Alyss approached. Halt was willing to bet that the letter was about something totally unimportant. The man was playing silly mind games, he thought.

But Alyss was up to the challenge. She stepped forward and produced a heave scroll from her sleeve, slapping it briskly down on the table before Montague. He started in surprise, looking up. Halt hid a smile.

"Alyss Mainwaring, Sir Montague, Courier from Redmont Castle. My credentials."

Montague wasn't just an oaf, Halt thought. He was a fop as well. His satin doublet was formed in alternating quarters of scarlet and gold. His reddish blond hair was left in overlong curls, framing a somewhat chubby face with slightly bulging eyes and a petulant mouth. He was of average height, but of somewhat more than average weight. He would be passably handsome, Halt supposed, if he could shed a few kilos in weight, but the man obviously liked to indulge himself. He recovered now from his momentary surprise and leaned back in his chair, adopting a languid, slightly disapproving tone.

"Good heaves, girl, you can't come in here throwing your credentials on the desk like that! Don't they teach good manners at Redmont Castle these days?"  
He looked distastefully at the scroll and shoved it to one side.

"They teach protocol, Sir Montague," Alyss replied, very evenly.

"And it requires that you examine and acknowledge my credentials before we proceed."  
"Yes, yes, yes," Montague said, waving a dismissive hand at the scroll. "Take it as read. Take it as read. Now, girl, what brings you here?"  
Halt interjected quietly, "The correct form of address, Sir Montague, is 'Lady Alyss'."

Montague looked at Halt in genuine surprise, as if he considered him some lower form of life who lacked the ability of speech.

"Is that so, forester?" he said. "And what might your name be?"  
Alyss went to speak, but a warning glance from Halt stopped her. He replied, still in the same quiet tone: "Some people call m Arratay, Sir Montague. It's Gallican," he added mildly.

Montague raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Gallican, you say? How exotic! Well, Master _Arraty_ , perhaps you could leave the talking to me and you Alyss here, would that suit you?"  
Halt shrugged and Montague took the movement for assent.

"Wonderful." Then, dismissing Halt, he turned his attention back to Alyss. "So, sweetheart, what do you have for me? A letter perhaps? Some self-important note from Fat Baron Arald, I'll be bound?"

There were two small spots of colour in Alyss's cheeks, the only outward sign of the anger that was building up inside her at the man's offhanded manner. She produced Nigel's heavy linen envelope from the satchel she wore at her side and offered it across the desk.

"I have an official legal position, prepared under Baron Arald's seal. He requests that you study it."  
Montague made no move to take the letter.

"Set it down. I'll look at it when I have time."  
"The Baron requests that you look at it now, sir. And give me your answer."  
Montague rolled his eyes to heaved and took the envelope. "Oh, very well, if it will make you happy." He sliced the envelope and took out the sheet of parchment inside it, skimming through it, muttering to himself, "Yes... yes... seen it... heard it before... nonsense... rubbish... nonsense."

He set the page down and pushed it away from him, shaking his head wearily.

"When will you people learn? You can send me all the letters you like. The fact remains, Cobram is an independent hold, owing no allegiance to Redmont Fief. The treaty makes that very clear."  
"I'm instructed to draw your attention to Items Three and Five in the letter, sir. And paragraph nine as well. They make it quite clear that the wording of the treaty is faulty and your claim to independence is totally spurious," Alyss replied. And now, for the first time, Montague shed the air of world-weariness that he'd assumed. He stood angrily.

"Spurious!" he shouted. "Spurious?" Who the devil are you, a little girl in a grown-up's dress, to come in here insulting me and saying my claim is spurious? How dare you?"

Alyss stood her ground, unmoved by his sudden anger.

"I repeat, sir, you are requested to read those items," she said quietly. Instead, Montague threw the letter down on the desk between them.

"And I refuse!" he shouted. Then his eyes narrowed. "I know who's behind this. I see the hand of that sour-faced shrew Lady Pauline here!"

now Alyss's own anger flared. "You will speak respectfully of Lady Pauline, sir!" she warned him. But Montague was too angry to stop.

"I'll speak of her, all right! I'll tell you this. She's a woman meddling in a men's world, where she has no place. She should have found a husband years ago and raised a brood of squalling babies. Surely there's a deaf and half-blind man somewhere who would have taken her."  
"Sir!" said Alyss, her own voice rising. "You are going to far!"

"Is that right, sweetheart?" Montague replied sarcastically. "Well, let me give you some advice. Get away from that shrill, pinch-faced witch while you still have time. Find a husband and learn to cook. That's all women are good for, girl. Cooking and raising the babies."

Halt stepped forward before Alyss could reply. "The correct form of address," he repeated quietly, "is not 'girl' or 'sweetheart'. It is 'Lady Alyss'. You will show respect for the laurel branch that this Courier wears. And you will show respect for Lady Pauline as well."

For a moment, Montague was too startled to reply. First a girl, now a common forester had told him how to behave!  
"Oh, is that so?" he raged. "I'll show you respect!" He picked up the letter and tore it in half. Then he did the same to the scroll bearing Alyss's credentials. "There's my respect! Now get out!"

Very carefully, Halt set his longbow to one side, leaning it against a chair. Alyss raised a warning hand.

"Halt, don't get into trouble on my behalf." She said. But Halt looked at her and shook his head.

"Lady Alyss, this... fop... has insulted you, your Baron, your mentor and the Diplomatic Corps as a whole. He has shown absolute disregard for the laurel branch you wear. And by destroying your credentials, he has committed a crime that warrants a jail term."

Alyss considered his words for a second or two. Then she nodded. Montague had been more than rude to her. His behaviour was totally beyond acceptance.

"You're right," she said. "Carry on."

But Montague had heard nothing after the word "Halt". The entire kingdom knew the legendary Ranger's reputation and the Keeper of Cobram paled now and stepped back as the grim-faced figure came toward him.

"But... you said... you said your name was..." He struggled to remember it. Halt smiled at him. It was the smile of a wolf.

"Arratay? Yes, well, more correctly, _Arretez_. It's Gallican for 'Halt'. My pronunciation has never been good."

His hand shot forward and locked in the scarlet-and-gold collar of the man's doublet. The satin tore momentarily, then Halt gained a firmer grip and dragged the struggling knight across the table toward him.

Montague was taller and heavier than Halt. But Halt's hands, arms, shoulders and back were conditioned by years of drawing the massive longbow, with its pull weight of sixty kilos. The thousands of arrows he had shot, over and over again, had turned his muscles into steel cord. Montague was dragged off his feet, hoisted across his own desk.

"The question is," said Halt, glancing at Alyss, "what should we do with him?" She hesitated, then that wonderful smile spread over her face.

"I wonder," she said. "Does this castle have a moat?"

A group of servants were buys emptying the privy buckets into the moat when they were startles by a sudden drawn-out cry. They looked up in time to see a scarlet-and-gold-clad figure sail out of a first-story window, turn over once and then land with an enormous splash in the dark, rancid waters. They shrugged and went back to work.

"I suppose I'll be in trouble again now," Halt said as they were riding home. Alyss glanced at him. He didn't look very repentant.

"I doubt it," she said. "Once people hear my report, I should think they'll say Montague got off lightly. After all, phrases like 'Fat Baron Arald' and 'sour-faced shrew' won't exactly endear him to Baron Arald or Lady Pauline. And he did sign an acceptance of the letter in the end. As the official courier on this mission, I thank you for your service."

He bowed slightly from the saddle. "It's been a pleasure working with you," he said, and they rode in companionable silence for a while.

"I suppose you'll be leaving with the army soon?" she said after a few minutes, and when Halt nodded, she continued: "I'll miss you. How will I ever carry out diplomatic missions without someone to throw unpleasant nobles out the window."  
"I'll miss you too." Halt smiled. And he realized that he meant it. He enjoyed being around young people – enjoyed their energy, their freshness, their idealism. "You're a good influence on a jaded, old, bad-tempered Ranger."  
"You'll soon have Will back to keep you busy," she said. "You _really_ miss him, don't you?"

The Ranger nodded. "More than I realized," he said. Alyss urged her horse close beside his and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

"That's for Will when you see him." A ghost of a smile touched Halt's face.

"You'll understand if I don't pass it on in person?" he said. Alyss smiled and leaned over to kiss him again.

"And that's for you, you jaded, bad-tempered old Ranger."

A little surprised by her own impulsiveness, she urged her horse ahead of him. Halt touched one hand to his cheek and looked after the slim blond figure.

 _If I were twenty years younger_... he began.

Then he sighed and had to be honest with himself. _Make that thirty years_ , he thought.


End file.
